The Fighting 17th
by FireBuff51
Summary: A spin-off series featuring characters from Backdraft and set in the world of Chicago Fire. Captain Brian McCaffery is tasked with re-opening Station 17 while keeping an eye on his rookie nephew. Meanwhile, a murderous serial arsonist is plaguing the neighborhoods served by both Stations 17 and 51. *Both chapters re-edited.
1. Chapter 1

**The Fighting 17th**

**Chapter 1**

The dream was back. The dream that wasn't really a dream. It was more of a replay of vivid memories that had come to him in his sleep each night for months after it had happened all those years ago.

A screaming siren. The constant beeping of the heart monitor. The paramedics' chatter as they worked in vain to save their patient. The acrid odor of stale sweat and smoke. The blood.

"_Who's your brother, Brian?"_

"_You are, Stephen._"

Seconds later, Brian McCaffrey's big brother would die in front of him, laying on a gurney in a racing ambulance.

Brian sat up in bed and took a deep breath. He was having the dream again and he knew exactly why.

XXXXXX 

"Martha. Martha, wake up, dear!" Irving Green whispered to his wife.

"What is it?" his wife yawned as she lay beside him.

"I just heard a crash downstairs," he flipped on the lamp beside their bed. "I think someone's breaking in."

Martha slipped on her glasses as she sat up.

"I'll call the police," she whispered.

"Is that old baseball bat still in the closet?"

"No! Don't you go down there, Irving!"

The elderly man tossed back the covers, stepped into his slippers and cautiously made his way across the bedroom floor.

After he retrieved the old Louisville Slugger from the closet he cracked open the door.

As he peered into the hall, he saw an orange glow at the bottom of the stairs.

He dropped the bat.

"Oh God, no..."

XXXXXX

Brian sat on the edge of the bed. He wasn't going back to sleep any time soon. He took the picture frame from the nightstand and stared at it in the moonlight. It was a photograph of his brother in his Lieutenant's uniform, flashing that broad smile he had.

His wife Jennifer reached out and lightly touched his shoulder as she lay behind him.

"You're having the dream again, aren't you?"

"Go back to sleep, Jen," he whispered. "It's late."

"Brian," she rubbed his back. "talk to me."

He returned the picture frame to the nightstand and sank back into bed. She slipped an arm over him and rested her head on his chest.

"I miss him so much, Jen," he said quietly. "I miss him so damned much."

XXXXXX

Chief Wallace Boden sat in his office inside Station 51 of the Chicago Fire Department.

The lamp on his desk provided the only light in an otherwise darkened office.

Matthew Casey, Truck 81's lieutenant, leaned in through the open door.

"Everything okay, Chief? You're up kinda late."

Boden shrugged.

"Donna called," he sighed. "Baby's sick. Nothin' she can't handle, but...I guess she just needed to talk. Why are you up?"

Casey shrugged as he stepped inside the office, hands tucked into his blue sweatshirt.

"Otis's borscht," he heaved a sigh as he patted his chest. "I should've just made a sandwich..."

The dispatch tones echoed through the station and the lights switched on in the hallway and dormitory outside the office.

"_Engine 51, Engine 33, Truck 81, Truck 68, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, Battalion 25_," called the voice of a female dispatcher. "s_tructure fire, 1445 Cooper, cross street Elmwood._"

The chief pushed back from his desk and followed Casey down the hall as the other firefighters rushed from the dormitory.

"Oh man, I was havin' a good dream, too," Brian Zvonecek called as he jogged onto the apparatus floor. "It was just me and Julia Roberts on a beach. I was feeding her grapes..."

"Oh, spare us your teenage sex dreams, Otis," Christopher Herrmann grumbled, stepping into his turnouts before he opened a rear door on Truck 81.

Moments later, the front and rear apparatus doors rolled up and the rigs pulled out into the cold Chicago night, lights flashing and sirens screaming.

XXXXXX

"Tomorrow's the anniversary of Stephen's death," Brian said.

Jen sat up, her skin appearing milky white in the moonlight. After all these years, she was still as beautiful to Brian as when they had first met as children.

"I know," she said softly. "How's Helen doing?"

"She's putting on a brave face, but I know it's still hard for her. With Sean about to graduate, it can't be easy for her."

"We'll go by and see her tomorrow."

"It'll have to be in the afternoon. I've got a meeting at headquarters tomorrow morning with Chief Tigard."

"Is it about putting in your papers?"

Brian sat up.

"Jen..."

His wife's shoulders sank.

"You haven't even filled out your retirement papers yet, have you?"

"Honey, I still have some years left in me; I'm not _dead._"

He immediately knew that was a poor choice of words. He took her face in his hands.

"I'm not gonna end up like my brother. We're different. I don't take the chances that he took."

"I'm just sick to death of worrying about you, Brian. I've lived with a constant knot in my stomach since we've been together. Do you know what that's like?"

"Jen, I just..."

He paused when he heard the sirens, faint, but rapidly growing closer. He left their bed and pulled back the curtains.

Battalion 25's SUV screamed past on the empty street below, followed by Engine 51's pumper, then Truck 81. Squad 3, the heavy rescue truck and Ambulance 61 were close behind.

Brian lifted the window and inhaled the cool night air, which carried on it the unmistakable scent of smoke.

"There's a fire somewhere," he sighed.

A minute later, the contingent from 51 arrived on Cooper avenue. Chief Boden could feel the intense heat from across the street as he stepped from his vehicle and slipped on his white helmet.

Dark orange flames crackled and danced from the front windows of an old two story house in the middle of the block. Acrid black smoke billowed into the night sky and drifted out across the neighborhood.

Engine 51 pulled past the house where it stopped at the hydrant on the corner.

Lt. Kelly Severide hopped down from Squad 3 and slammed his door.

"Mask up!" he called to his crew as he hefted his air pack onto his shoulders.

"Battalion 25, to Engine 51, I want a two and a half on that front door as soon as possible," Boden called into his mic. "Squad 3, initiate a primary search; Truck 81, vent the roof."

"Truck 81, copy!" Casey called into his radio as he strapped an axe belt around his waist. "Otis, raise the stick! Herrmann, Mouch! Grab a 24'! Stella, you're hittin' the roof with me!"

"Cruz, you and me on search," said Severide buckling his harness.

"Got it, Lieutenant," replied Joe Cruz as he retrieved a halligan bar from the squad.

A fireball erupted from one of the house's front windows, forcing the firefighters to duck for cover as ash and burning embers rained down on them.

"Casey! We're not getting' through the front!" Severide shouted to his fellow Lieutenant.

Casey nodded.

"Mouch! Herrmann! Hurry up with that 24'! Ladder that top window on the west exposure!"

"Battalion 25 to Main," Boden called into his radio as sirens filled the air in all directions. "We're eastbound on Cooper. Two story, single family dwelling, heavy smoke and fire from the first floor. Give me a still and a box assignment and get PD out here to start shutting down traffic."

A young woman in a pink bathrobe ran from the house next door.

"The Greens! I think they're still inside!" she cried. "They're an elderly couple! They live alone!"

"We'll get 'em," Severide assured her as they pushed through the front gate. "I just need you to stay back for me, okay?"

Herrmann and Mouch carried the 24-foot ladder alongside the house and quickly propped it against the west side of the structure, just below the window. Severide and Cruz slipped on their masks and helmets, then ascended the ladder as 81's men held it in place.

Severide attempted to lift the window which was open just a crack, but it refused to budge. He pulled the halligan from his belt and used the flat end to smash in the glass. He knocked out any loose shards with his gloved hand, then pulled himself inside.

He dropped to his knees and began to crawl across the floor, sweeping the halligan across the carpet before him.

"Fire Department! Call out! Is there anybody in here?!"

Cruz dropped down into the bedroom and crawled behind his lieutenant.

Meanwhile below, Engine 51's crew had stretched a two and a half inch hose line across the front lawn and onto the front steps.

The other half of Squad 3, Capp and Tony, prepared to force open the front door. Capp wedged the flat end of a halligan bar into the front door jamb.

"Hit!" he called.

Tony swung a flat head axe and struck the end of the halligan driving it further into the jamb and splintering the wood.

"Hit!" Capp called again.

Again, Tony slammed the axe against the halligan. Capp gripped the bar with both hands and leaned hard against it until the door broke open.

He and Tony were forced to drop to their knees as flames jumped out from the doorway and rolled up under the awning.

One of the engine's men opened the nozzle and unleashed a powerful stream of water into the heart of the flames, creating a hissing cloud of steam.

"I got one!" Severide called through his mask as his hand brushed against a lifeless body. "I'm taking 'em out!"

He slipped his hands under the arms of Irving Green and dragged him back across the carpet.

Cruz bumped against the bed. He stood and found the motionless form of Martha Green.

"I've got another one, Lieutenant!"

"Squad 3 to Truck 81!" Severide called into his radio. "We're gonna need the

aerial at the front window, second floor! We've got two victims!"

By now, Truck 81's aerial ladder had been raised and extended to the roof, enabling Casey and Stella Kidd to begin the ventilation work.

Casey swung his axe into the roof, chopping open a hole that immediately seeped black smoke.

"Truck 81, copy that, Squad 3," he replied, keying the mic on his chest. "Otis, you copy that?"

"On it, Lieutenant," Otis replied as he operated the controls on the turntable at the base of the ladder.

He lowered the ladder several feet to the second floor bedroom window facing the street. Two firefighters from Truck 68 made their way up the aerial as Severide punched out the glass.

Severide and Cruz lifted their victims through the window to the waiting firefighters who quickly carried them back down the aerial.

Seconds later, Gabby Dawson and Sylvie Brett, Ambulance 61's paramedics, were on the sidewalk, performing CPR on Mr. Green while a few feet away, two firefighters from Engine 33 worked on his wife.

Severide and Cruz climbed down from Truck 81 and pulled off their masks.

"Nice work," Chief Boden said as he stood behind them.

Severide stared at the elderly couple laying on the sidewalk, fighting for their lives.

"Not if they don't make it," he sighed.

XXXXXX

An hour and a half later, the house was a charred, smoking shell of the home that it once was.

Captain Lynette Cartwright from the CFD's Office of Fire Investigation opened the trunk of her red sedan and retrieved a large case which she sat on the ground. She then pulled on her black and yellow striped turnout coat, slipped on her helmet and closed the trunk.

She picked up the case and stepped onto the sidewalk where Severide and Casey stood sipping water with several of the other firefighters. Their faces were stained black with soot.

"Captain," Severide nodded when he caught her eye.

"Lieutenant," replied Cartwright. "Since you're here, do they even need me?"

Severide bit his lip and stared at the ground.

Cartwright cocked her head.

"Hey, come on, Kelly," she smirked. "You know I always have to give you a hard time."

Casey cleared his throat.

"We just heard from Med," he said quietly. "The two victims that the squad pulled out...they didn't make it."

"Oh...I'm...I'm sorry guys. Truly."

She caught Severide's eye again. He shrugged and walked off.

"Cartwright!" Chief Boden called from the porch.

She squeezed Casey's shoulder, then made her way up to the house.

"What've ya got for me, Chief?"

"It's pretty obvious," he said, leading her inside the house.

"Damn, this place reeks of gasoline," she said.

"Uh-huh," Boden swept the bright white beam of his lantern along the floor. "Take a look at this."

She knelt and scrutinized the discolored marks on the floor.

"Pour patterns," she said grimly. "Son of a bitch. Another one."

"Another one?" asked the Chief.

Cartwright nodded as she stood.

"We had a similar fire tonight over in 48's district. Occupied dwelling, pour pattern, gasoline stench. 48 was first in and made the grab. Saved three people."

"So we've got a serial arsonist?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Looks like it," she replied. "Except now, he's also a murderer."

_**To be continued...**_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Fighting 17th**

**Chapter 2**

Brian made his way down one of the long hallways at CFD headquarters. He stopped before a picture window and stared at his reflection, double checking to make sure everything on his captain's uniform was in place. For a man in his early fifties, he was still fit. Still in shape. Still had that handsome McCaffery face.

"Brian McCaffery," he heard a gruff voice say off to his left.

He turned to see Chief Boden standing before him wearing a CFD windbreaker over a sweatshirt and jeans.

"Hey, Chief. Good to see ya," Brian shook his hand. "I heard 51 had a bad one last night."

"It was rough," he sighed. "How's life at Fire Prevention?"

"Okay. When they closed 17, my wife said it was a sign that I should take a desk job."

"Happy wife, happy life?" Boden smirked.

"You got it."

"You miss it? Ridin' Big Red, kickin' down doors..._fightin' fire_?"

Brian gave the Chief a sideways glance.

"What do you think?"

Deputy District Chief Tigard rounded the corner.

"Ah, gentlemen. Right on time," the white haired officer said pleasantly. "Follow me."

Brian looked at Boden as if to ask, _'do you know what this is about'_?

Boden just shook his head with a knowing smile and motioned for Brian to follow Tigard.

When they were settled in the Chief's office, Tigard folded his hands on his desk and looked at Brian.

"I guess you're wondering why I've called you in here, Captain McCaffery?"

"I am curious, Sir."

"Well, as you know, the department's undergone a...reorganization over the last year and a half. Some firehouses were closed under dubious circumstances..."

"To say the least." Boden folded his arms.

"Yes. Well, the department is doing its best to reconcile that. Starting with Engine 17."

Brian leaned forward.

"You're re-opening Station 17?"

"We are. It's part of the department's current realignment, under which, 17's district is being re-drawn, reassigning it to Battalion 25, which is why Chief Boden is here. You'll now be working under him."

"Working under him? Chief, I'm in Fire Prevention now."

"Brian, we need a veteran officer running House 17," said Boden, turning in his chair to face him. "We'll try to bring back as many of the firefighters who worked there before as we can, but there'll be new faces and we need a veteran hand guiding the transition."

Brian sat back in his chair and sighed.

"Come on, firefighting is in the McCaffery blood," said Tigard. "Firefighting, not sitting at a desk. We need you out there, Brian. The ball's already rolling on this. We're shooting for next Friday to have the engine and truck up and running."

"My wife isn't going to like this..."

Tigard arched an eyebrow.

"If it'll make it any easier...you can tell her it was a direct order."

XXXXXX

It was a tension-filled drive as Brian and Jennifer headed down the quiet, tree-lined street to the house of his brother's widow, Helen McCaffery.

"I didn't have any choice, Jen."

Jennifer sternly stared out of the passenger window, watching the scenery pass by.

"Oh, I'm sure you put up a hell of a fight."

"It was an order."

They pulled to a stop in front of a two story house with a big yard. Brian could almost see his brother up on the roof, hammering down a loose shingle or two as he seemed to do every weekend.

"When you went to Fire Prevention, I thought I could finally relax. Just a little," Jennifer's nose twitched and she wiped a single tear from her cheek. "How long is it for?"

"I'm not sure. Probably just a few months."

She reached out and took his hand.

"McCaffery, you'd better come back to me in one piece when this is all over."

He lifted her hand and kissed it.

"What in the hell did I ever do to deserve such an amazing woman?"

She kissed him.

"I ask myself that every day," she laughed, wiping away the last of her tears before opening the car door.

XXXXXX

Don Rimgale sat at a table on the back deck of his small house that overlooked an even smaller lawn. Thirty years in the Chicago Fire Department had afforded him a decent pension, even after the alimony he had to pay to his second wife, so he could afford to live in a moderately priced home out in the suburbs as opposed to a cracker box apartment in the city.

Retirement had not sat well with him. He'd done a few consulting jobs here and there, even acted as a technical adviser to a few movies and TV shows that featured scenes with the CFD, but overall, he was bored.

He poured a shot of whiskey into his coffee and took a long sip as he flipped over the newspaper on the table, preparing for another day of boredom.

He read the headline on the front page of The Tribune and quickly set down his mug.

CFD INVESTIGATING POSSIBLE SERIAL ARSONIST.

He quickly skimmed the article, gleaning the essential details, details that he was already familiar with. He felt his heart begin to race.

"Sonovabitch," he sighed, sitting back in his chair. "Son of a bitch."

XXXXXX

"Well, it was nice of you two to stop by," Helen McCaffery said, sitting down on the couch across from Brian and Jennifer. "It means a lot. You have no idea."

"This time of year, it's always hard on all of us," Jennifer replied, forcing a smile.

"Sooo...I'm glad that you stopped by, actually. I have a favor to ask."

"Anything," said Brian. "Name it."

"I know it's asking lot, but, with Sean graduating from the Academy next week...I need you to watch out for him, Brian."

"Hey, I've already planned to. You don't have to worry. I know who his Lieutenant will be and I've already asked him to..."

"I appreciate that, I do," Helen's bottom lip quivered slightly. "But, when you told me that you were going back into the field...I just thought...I hoped that you could put him in your company, so you could keep an eye on him, personally."

Brian exhaled. And stared into his sister-in-law's glistening blue eyes. She brushed a strand of pale blonde hair from her forehead.

"You know...when Stephen pulled strings and had me assigned to Engine 17, under his command...it wasn't..." he paused searching for the right words. "I didn't like it. I wanted to make my own way in the department."

"Brian...I'm scared to death as it is," Helen sniffed. "This job already took my husband. I'll be damned if it takes my son from me, too. I practically begged Sean not to join the fire department, but he was hell bent on joining the family business. Sean idolizes you, he always has. This...this would give me some piece of mind. Just a little. Please, Brian."

He glanced back at Jennifer who nodded.

"Okay," Brian replied, staring at his hands. "I'll talk to Chief Boden and see what we can do."

Helen heaved a deep sigh.

"Thank you, Brian. Thank you."

XXXXXX

That night, a man wearing a black hooded sweatshirt stood in the alley across the street from a row of three story brownstones. The gym bag slung over his shoulder was heavy and he was itching to empty it.

He'd stood in the shadows of this alley for the last half hour, waiting for the right moment.

"Come on," he mumbled.

Then it happened. The downstairs lights went out on the house directly across from the alley. Two minutes later, the upstairs lights switched off.

He looked both ways to make sure the street was empty, then jogged across the street and up the house's front steps. He pulled the bag from his shoulder and knelt on the porch. He unzipped the bag and retreived a large plastic jug full of gasoline.

He grabbed a large stone from the porch and was about to smash it through the front window, when he realized that the rock was a fake. He flipped it over to find a key hidden inside.

"Wow," he chuckled to himself. This one would be even easier than he had imagined.

He unlocked the front door and cautiously stepped inside. No creaking to alert the residents, no alarm activation. He looked around the living room for a few brief moments.

From what he could see in the moonlight, it appeared to be a nice place. Big screen TV on the wall, nice couch and leather recliners. A place he'd never be able to afford himself.

He uncapped the jug and began to splash gasoline all over the room; the furniture, the walls, the carpet.

He stepped back through the front door and inhaled the fumes. He wanted to linger, but knew he didn't have the time. He pulled the book of matches from his pocket and struck a match. As it burned, he tucked it back into the matchbook, then tossed it into the living room.

Immediately, a lake of fire ignited, lighting up the room. He quickly pulled the door closed and locked it before running back down the steps. As he jogged down the quiet street, he could hear someone screaming. Seconds later, the front windows exploded.

_**To be continued...**_


End file.
